


love is a promise

by nightskywithrainbows (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry Potter, Boys In Love, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Homosexuality, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Top Draco Malfoy, harry is kinda touch- starved, idiot boys learning how to deal with trauma, some porn but mostly feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nightskywithrainbows
Summary: There were three things Harry Potter knew irrevocably. First of all, he was gay. Second of all, he was gay for Draco. Third of all (although he doesn’t know this yet, he will soon), relationships are hard.They’re also very worth it.Or: Harry is tired of pining and decides to talk to Draco.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 134





	love is a promise

____  
He liked sex. Sex was great. Specifically gay sex. Man on man. Cock up your butt sex. 

He hadn’t had a lot of it, but he knew he fucking _loved_ it. 

He wasn’t a virgin the first time Draco penetrated him, but god did he feel like one. Two brief summer flings before him, but only one went all the way. 

There were no feelings involved. 

His first…. Boyfriend, he was in fourth year, and he was hot. Ivan was hot. Not quite his type, but he didn’t know enough about himself to realize he even had a type back then. He was tall, dark and handsome, and reminded him of Tom. 

Finally! An explanation for his feelings, for his lack of interest in girls, for the way his dick grew every time a boy stepped out of the Quidditch showers, water flowing in rivulets down their abs. 

That summer, he went to the library. Got on a computer, and spent hours upon hours googling homosexuality, how to tell if you are gay, and then, once he realized, gay sex. Slightly disgusted at first, once he had a little… experimentation, he realized ‘Fuck, this feels good.’ He couldn’t imagine having a dick up there. But god, did he want it. 

He snuck out and went to a club. Met a tall boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. And the sex- god, it felt so good, so good. The boy was caring, and sweet and let Harry make decisions, and didn’t give him choices. 

He didn’t like that part, it wasn’t the right person or dynamic, but it was new and the sex was good so he stayed that one night, getting fucked once or twice, trying to top and realizing he hated that. 

He touched himself every night after that, but never went back to the club. He decided it wasn’t enough, he didn’t want any more quick fucks. He wanted a boyfriend. 

And his fantasies evolved. He wanted someone to fuck him raw, make love to him while holding him down and make it all okay. He wanted to be touched and treasured and loved. 

Surprising probably no one but himself (as everyone else could plainly see the sexual tension), he had a certain blonde haired ponce in mind. With him, he’d fought and hated, and what he thought was mutual irritation was actually sexual tension. Draco quickly became the subject of his fantasies. 

And how surprised he was when they came true!

Draco Malfoy was revealed to be an Order spy when he tried to protect his parents (they were killed anyway). Draco was given his own room at Hogwarts then, to protect from the outraged Slytherins, baby death eaters intent on his destruction. 

Harry waited a week before showing up and knocking on the door. 

He wanted- god, he wanted Draco, wanted him to love him and fuck him and be his boyfriend. 

He couldn’t ask. Where was his Gryffindor courage now? He thought to himself as he stood trembling before the door and knocked tentatively. 

It opened faster than Harry expected, and he began to stammer out an apology, when Draco gently grabbed his arm, a smile on his face, and tugged him in. 

______

Harry felt so stupid, sitting there. Draco guided him to an armchair in front of a fireplace, then sat down in front of him and reclined. He simply looked, and his gaze went right into his soul. 

Trying to distract himself with the room, he noticed the Slytherin colors- but there were also hints of blue, yellow, red. It’s not very large, but it feels cozy, and Harry can’t help but think he’d fit right in. 

“I-,” “You-,” They start at the same time, then stop. Harry looks at Draco, then laughs, and the tension is broken as Draco laughs too. Harry can feel the edges of mania, he wants to start to sob for everything and nothing, but he stops himself. He sighs, burying his face in his hands. 

“Hi, Malfoy. Draco. I’m here- god, I’m here-”

He can’t get the words out. Draco seems amused by this. 

“It’s okay, Harry. Are you okay? You seem…. Distressed.”

Harry lets out a bitter laugh, because _of fucking course he’s distressed, how observant of you to notice, thank you very much._

“Would you like to talk?” And Draco seems genuine, light smiles and curiosity and deep gaze and blonde hair-

Harry looks away. “To you? Why the hell would you want that?”

“Well, I’m here, Potter. I’ll listen.”

And like a dam, Harry breaks. 

“First of all, don’t fucking call me ‘Potter’ you absolute dick, I hate that name and all it carries. My life is so fucking messed up, I don’t even care anymore, and I’m sitting in your room, of all places! God! I’m pathetic, running to my fucking crush because of a little thing, not even counting everything else, our shitty history and- God, Malfoy, are you _laughing?_ You absolute dick!”

Draco is indeed laughing, trying to hold it in and failing, choking on his laughter. 

“Sorry- god, did you say crush? I mean- god, I’m sitting here fucking thinking about you as always, and you show up all adorable and scared and fucking rant to me and that’s not how you bloody tell someone you fancy them!”

He is stunned. Absolutely stunned, frozen staring at Malfoy’s flushed face and angry stance. He can’t even process what’s happening. He starts to cry, and Malfoy deflates, and quickly becomes concerned, which is even weirder, and then he’s full on sobbing, and he just needs to be _touched._

And Draco is hovering, seemingly indecisive, and Harry sobs harder, arms wrapped around himself, and that’s when Draco decides fuck it, Harry’s in some serious emotional/psychological pain, and he sits on the armchair next to him, and tentatively reaches out his arms, giving Harry ample time to pull away. 

He doesn’t. He sinks into Draco’s touch like he’s drowning in his tears, and Draco reacts instinctively, bringing him close and holding him as he soaks his shirt with salty sobs, and for once Draco isn’t thinking of his clothing.

All that matters is the boy in his arms, this complex contradiction of a hero, a boy who Draco hated and obsessed over, and has an absolutely massive crush on. This boy, a constant in his life since eleven years old, who continues to give him meaning. Draco is so worried, but he can do nothing but hold him until the sobs start to subside, and then Draco begins whispering in his ear. 

“Hey, Harry, I’m going to talk a bit, and if you want me to stop just tap me, okay? I’m sorry for laughing, it just took me by such surprise, you know? I wanted to hear those words for so long, and the way you said them, and the way you looked, and the way I felt, it was too much. It’s not an excuse. I do like you, god I might even love you. Took me long enough to realize. Right now, though, I’m not thinking of that, I’m only thinking of you. I’m so concerned for you Harry. I don’t know what’s happening but I want you to be alright.”

And Harry sobs again, because Draco just wants him to be alright because he _cares._ He doesn’t need him, he doesn’t need Harry, and now Harry doesn’t have to pretend, and that makes him cry harder, and he can barely breathe. 

Draco is getting seriously worried. 

“Harry, I need you to look at me. Deep breaths, okay? In, out, breathe..” And Draco coaches him through the wave, the tsunami that threatened to overtake him. He is patient and he is intense, and he cares, and Harry can breathe again. 

Wiping away his tears but not really achieving much, Harry gives a little choked half sob of laughter that nearly freaks out Malfoy- no, Draco, again. 

“God, I am so fucking sorry for this, I don’t know what this is or what it was supposed to be, I just don’t know, but thank you, god thank you, I could kiss you right now-”

He stops and turns bright red. Tomato red. “I should not have said that,” Hagrid level red. 

Draco thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. So he does the only sensible thing, which is to breach the space, lean in, and press his lips against the Gryffindors’.

The kiss is…. Wonderful. It’s wet and sloppy with tears and inexperience, and they wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

______

They spoke for hours after that, hours and hours of childhood stories, and problems, and feelings, and monologues that morph into dialogues, that stretch into the night. They could stretch across a thousand nights. 

Draco was officially the one who asked. 

“Look, this isn’t exactly proper. We’ve never been normal, or proper, but Harry, I’d like nothing more than to take you out next Hogsmeade weekend.”

All cried out, Harry just nods yes, looking fragile and devastatingly happy, and full of hope like the starlight shining through the window. 

______

It was months of getting to know each other, inside and out, fears and tears and kinks and crushing vulnerability and growing love. It was months of snark and fights and bliss, their own little slice of perfectly imperfect paradise. 

After one particularly lovely night out, Draco pulled him to the bed, and shut the door, and they agreed tonight was the night. 

And then they were fucking. God, Draco was everything Harry had ever wanted. He gave him choices, held him close. 

They started simple. Mouth on mouth, sloppy and wet and arousing. Harry asked if he wanted a blowjob, and Draco simply said “Up to you. We could, but I’d rather be inside you right the fuck now.”

He (and his dick) were very excited by that possibility. 

So, while he was nodding and starting to beg, Draco pulled him close, laid him down, asked him “is this position okay?” and Harry nodded fervently. God, he needed Draco _now._

Draco trailed kisses down his chest, licking at his nipples as Harry moaned. It felt good, but he wanted to get fucked, dammit. 

“Patience, Harry,” Draco chuckled, but abruptly changed tactics at the moan Harry made when he sucked on his neck. 

“Oh, you like that, do you?,” and his voice was husky and sexy and Harry was enraptured. “ You like me leaving marks down your body, marking you as mine for all to see?”

Harry could do nothing but moan, his dick getting even harder, and he was so horny he couldn’t think straight, so he snuck a finger down and began to open himself. 

Draco noticed almost immediately, and his eyes darkened in a way that made Harry shiver in fearful pleasure. 

“Now tell me. What the fuck you think you’re doing, Potter.”

Harry whimpered at this, whispering “Sorry, sorry, please don’t call me Potter.”

Briefly apologetic, Draco didn’t stop touching him. “Shit, I forgot, sorry. It’s okay Harry, you are Harry, my Harry, and _you are not allowed to touch yourself._ You are going to lay here and let me fuck you, wouldn’t you like that?”

Harry nearly cried out. “Yes! God, yes, fuck yes, please please fuck me, touch me, I need you..”

Draco smirked, reaching for a lubricant Harry hadn’t seen before. 

He bit back a hiss as it was spread against him, and Draco frowned in displeasure. “Harry, I want to hear you, even if it hurts, I want to hear all of you, see all of you, don’t you fucking dare hold back.”

Harry didn’t. 

And now there was a finger inside him, strange and foreign and right, moving around and in and out and now there were two, stretching and pulling and burning and filling, and still it wasn’t enough, and Harry was begging. 

“P- Please, God, Draco, please, I need you, I need more, more, faster, fuck me, ah, fuck, I need- please, Draco, please, please…”

Three fingers now, and Harry was an absolute mess, and he couldn’t fucking wait for that beautiful long dick up his ass. 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow,” Draco said with a smirk, then slammed his dick in, and Harry cried out in pain and pleasure and god it felt so right. 

His legs were spread, Draco loomed over him, and Harry felt no fear. He loved how Draco fucked him raw and hard and did not hold back. 

Draco moved out, slammed back in, and Harry was crying and whimpering and moaning and this is all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. 

Draco set a furious pace, Harry only too happy to oblige, and it wasn’t long before Draco came inside him, with a cross between a shout and a growl and a grunt. 

Draco pulled out of him, looking at Harry’s still leaking prick, so close to orgasm, and he reached down and all it took was a few fast strokes and Harry was making inhumane noises as he came, splattering them both, releasing loudly, and god he wanted to feel this way forever. 

Draco collapsed on the bed next to him, looking at him and grinning broadly, and Harry burst out laughing. Draco furrowed his brow, and Harry laughed harder, and told him “God, I love you.”

Draco looked taken aback, but was quick to respond, “I love you too.”

And Harry was pulled to him, and they were making out, and then Draco’s mouth was on him and he was coming once again. 

Harry was only too glad to return the favor. 

After, Draco cleaned them both, himself first then Harry, and Harry looked at him through a haze of pleasure and thought, for once in his life, he was more than happy. 

_____

They still have problems. Together, and apart. 

Harry is sometimes reminded of the lack of a childhood, the aching pain left by the Dursleys, the anxiety left by the Wizarding World’s expectations. In his nightmares they whisper and scream, _“freak, worthless, do your chores, boy- Mum, look, it’s the Boy Who Lived- Harry Potter- arrogant like your father- can I see your scar?”_

Little things set him off, reminders of a skillet to the head because the food was burnt, fist to the face for daring to exist, friendships that loved Potter, headmasters that loved the Boy Who Lived, the public who loved the poster boy Gryffindor Savior, godfathers that loved his dead friend’s child. Harry has never been a child. He has never been seen. And this makes him weak in his strength, this makes him lash out at Draco and this makes it hard to hear the truth behind his words, the double meanings in Draco’s words. Draco grew up where love was a regretful weakness never spoken. The love was twisted and hurtful, but it was there. It was never there for Harry, but it was there for Potter, and that just makes it hurt more. 

And Draco is sometimes reminded of the abusive love that was his childhood, the terror that was the Dark Lord, and he still has the mental scars of the stereotypes of his peers. In his nightmares, they whisper _“control yourself, Draco, you are a Malfoy, look at those disgusting mudbloods- bow to your Lord,- hateful glares and “What did you learn, Draco, my boy? Spy for us, Draco.”_

Little things set him off, too. Reminders of when all his life, all he knew, was lies. Lies called double meanings and deceptions, and after all he is a Slytherin. Everything is a trade, love was a currency, a bartering tool, and nothing is what it seems. Draco must be a smooth surface of a lake, smooth and calm and impassive, he must not show or feel or be alive, he’s not allowed ripples in the water. Any weakness, they will attack. And when he could make his own decisions- he still had to lie and charm and be a Slytherin, he had to risk his life to be on the right side, to get away from the rampant killing. He had to spy to be safe, and he just wants to be loved unconditionally. 

Malfoy has too much control, and Potter has too little, and together Draco and Harry learn to give and take and share and live, truly live, beyond surviving. 

And together, they sometimes take it too far, cursing and yelling, and they don’t know how much they hurt. 

Neither of them have learned the most important part of love, which is communication. Listening, truly listening, seeing the ugly and staying anyway. Love is a promise, they are a promise to try to listen to each other and themselves. 

So sometimes they fight, and they yell beyond playful banter, but at the end of the day they both come back. They need each other, love each other, care for every reason. 

At the end of the day, their love is not a beginning or an ending, not a sunrise or a sunset, but a promise like the sun. Every time, it says, I will be here, trying and learning and living and loving. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! I really hope you liked that. This is my first time writing smut, so.....
> 
> I'm considering making this a series with a few one shots in the future, please let me know if you're interested or just if you like this. thanks :)
> 
> some extra special thanks to dylan, who does not have an ao3 account. their suggestion inspired this, and this is for them. Ily my friend <3  
> and to [ Amora0819](/users/%5Bhttps://archiveofourown.org/users/Amora0819%5D/) for all her support.


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